


Another Night in Goodneighbor

by CrackingLamb



Series: Nights [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: The Sole Survivor has returned from destroying the Institute.  Hancock helped her before, can he do it again?





	Another Night in Goodneighbor

The door of the State House opened and closed but Hancock didn't pay much attention. Traffic in and out of his home was nearly constant, and he had paperwork in front of him that he'd been putting off too long. But the light tread of footsteps ended in his doorway...and that got his attention. He leaned back and looked up to see the face that had been haunting him for weeks.

 _Eyes like the sky_...

“Well, look who it is,” he drawled.

“Hello, Hancock.”

“Eleanor.”

She came into the room and sat down opposite him on the worn striped sofa, an echo of the last time he'd seen her. Her face was drawn and her eyes were bloodshot like she'd been on a bender. She wore ragged road leathers with no armor, while a pair of sunglasses dangled from her fingers.

“You look beat, sister.”

She heaved a sigh. “I am. Funny thing about finishing that which I set out to do. Now I can't sleep.”

“We felt the blast from here,” he said gently, without any particular inflection of judgment or criticism. She'd done a good deed for the Commonwealth in destroying the Institute, but he hadn't forgotten her parting words. _I'm off to kill my son_.

“Yeah...I'll bet you did,” she said, bringing him back to the present.

“What can I do for you, Eleanor?”

“Can I...” She raised her eyes to his, plaintive and _broken_. This woman had singlehandedly destroyed the Commonwealth's boogeyman. This strong woman, from whom no Gunner camp was too well fortified, no raider was safe, no evil remained hidden. But all that showed was a terrible grief at what she'd had to do. There was guilt written in those baby blues, guilt he understood all too well.

“Can you what?” he asked, stepping around the coffee table from his sofa to hers. He slid down next to her, his arm across the back of it. To his shock, she leaned in against him, resting her forehead against his chest. He wasn't above offering comfort if it was needed, and it sure looked like she needed it. He hadn't expected her to surrender to that need, however.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

“I ain't about to throw the hero of the wasteland out on her ass if she needs some peace and quiet,” he murmured into her hair. He could tell her hair had once been dyed a warm magenta color, but it had faded and grown out so that her natural brown showed through. On a better day he thought it would be lustrous and shiny, but now it was just lank and unkempt, as if she hadn't had the energy or willpower to even wash it.

“Thanks,” she mumbled into his frockcoat.

“Hey, how about a shower first, huh? Let some steam get into your pores, melt away some tension, yeah?”

She lifted her head and they were so close he could kiss her if he wanted. But he didn't. Comfort was one thing, but one didn't make overtures of that nature with a woman like her, no matter what they'd shared. It was just one night, right? It didn't mean anything...to either of them.

 _Right, John_ , he scolded himself. _Keep tellin' yourself that_.

“You really know how to get on a girl's good side, don'cha?” For a second there was a gleam in her eye that reminded him of the powerhouse he'd held in arms just once, just for a moment. The memory of her in his bed raced through his mind and he cocked a grin at her before he could think twice about it.

“Is that a yes?” he drawled, putting all the smoky charm he could into his voice.

“You got any Jet?”

“Sunshine, what the hell kind of question is that? A'course I do.”

“You gonna join me in there, make sure I don't fall down or anything?”

“Do you want me to?” He was nearly whispering now, and her lips were inches away. When had she leaned closer? She braced a hand on his chest, he could feel the heat of it through the worn, ancient coat. She was trembling. Exhaustion or anticipation?

“Hancock...”

“What is it you want, Eleanor?” He heard his own words echo in his head; he had said them to her that night too.

“Peace and quiet. And you.”

She let her hand slide across his chest and up to his neck, cradling his head as she pressed her mouth to his. She still tasted sweet, still carried with her the barest hint of floral fragrance that was so out of place with her tough exterior. He groaned into the kiss and tangled his fingers in her hair, keeping her close. He was rock hard and ready, but he knew he couldn't let it show. Couldn't let her know that with a single kiss she had undone weeks of concerted effort to forget her, to move past her.

When she finally pulled away, he saw that her eyes had turned glassy and soft, the pained expression replaced with something more lively. “So, a shower, you say?”

“I even have good soap.”

Without another word she stood and began unbuttoning the fitted leather jacket she wore over ragged flannel. He stilled her hands with his and led her towards the bathroom first, making sure to signal to his Triggermen to go away as he did. He didn't miss their smirks – some knowing, some ruefully envious – and wondered if she had seen them too.

He closed to the door tight behind them and let her resume her methodical stripping. Before she dropped the flannel on the floor, she gave him an expectant glance and he grinned again, dropping his tricorn on a chair just inside the door. It wasn't long before they were both naked as the day they were born. He wasn't self conscious about his body around her; she'd never shied from it in all the months he'd known her, and she certainly hadn't shied away from it that one night.

He started up the taps, letting the water get nice and hot as it fell into a modified barrel to drain down into a cistern in the basement of the State House to be recycled. The room began to fill with steam and he added a bit more cold to it than he would normally use. She was a softskinned human after all. As he fiddled with the water temperature, he felt her hands on his back, sliding over his gnarled skin, tracing every groove and furrow. He went motionless under her touch, let her do what she wanted. Her hands eventually curled around his ribs and then across his stomach to lace together, her breasts pressed up against him from behind as she held him. He covered her hands with his, feeling her contented sigh more than hearing it.

“C'mon, sister, get that gorgeous ass in there before I forget myself.”

 _Not like she ain't gonna know anyway_ , he thought. Being naked with her wasn't a great way to hide a raging hard on. She chuckled from behind him as if she could hear his thought and let him go, stepping over the edge of the barrel into the spray. The water poured over her, slicking down her hair and skin. He just stood and watched, until she peered over her shoulder.

“Thought you were joining me,” she teased.

“Just admiring the view,” he replied.

“Admire it a little closer.”

He reached down to the pile of clothes and found the Jet inhaler from his pocket, shaking it as he stepped into the barrel with her. There wasn't much room for two, and she carefully turned to face him, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders for balance. She tipped her head back into the spray, allowing droplets to run down her face. Hancock hit the Jet and offered it to her. She took it and did the same, a trickle of vapor running from her nose to be lost in the steam. She stepped closer into his arms – and how had his hands gotten onto her hips anyway? - and kissed him again, languorous and slow as the world wound down to a crawl around them.

He could see the individual drops on her skin, could feel the sharp rasp of her teeth on his bottom lip, the bite of her nails on the back of his head. He'd forgotten the soap, but it didn't seem to matter much. She smoothed her hands down his body until she found his erection. The Jet made every sensation last and he heard his own groan as if from a distance as her fingers wrapped around him. With a touch so light it was nearly torturous, she stroked him root to tip.

The Jet spiraled down, and the world sped up again, but she didn't stop touching him, didn't stop licking up the spray from his throat. He let his hands wander over her skin, so soft and smooth compared to his own.

“Eleanor...” he breathed when he could manage to form thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I want you.”

“I can tell,” and she squeezed down on his cock just slightly, making him jerk. “I want you, too.”

He shut off the water and lifted her into his arms. Her powerful thighs wrapped around his waist like it was planned. He didn't bother with a towel; he was too eager. He carried her dripping out of the steam of the bathroom and into the chill of the rest of the State House and she shivered, her nipples puckering against his chest as she giggled in his ear. The sound was so unexpected he nearly dropped her, but he managed to keep hold of her and walked into his bedroom. He let her slide down his body next to the bed and kissed her again, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. She kept her arms about his neck and held him tight, growing breathless.

He cupped her breasts in his hands, hefting their weight and running his thumbs across her nipples. She shivered again, but it wasn't from the cold in the room. “You're still a beautiful woman, Eleanor. In case you'd forgotten.”

“I'm glad you still think so.”

He lifted his gaze from his hands to her face. “I will always think so.”

He pushed her back against the edge of the bed and she flopped down on it like she had before, sprawling and unabashed. He looked her over, seeing thinness in her that wasn't there before. There were marks on her ribcage that were new – probably from fighting her way through the Institute – and bruises along her legs. But she still glowed with the same inner light, she still shone like a star. He braced himself over her body and tucked a hand under a knee to bring it up to her shoulder.

“I still want to take it slow,” he said, lining himself up with her body, sliding along her wetness. She didn't reply, only bit her lip at the feel of him against her. He shifted his body just a bit and slipped inside her. “So slow...”

He sank into her, inch by inch. She threw her head back into the mattress, her hands spasmodically clenching onto the tangled sheets and blankets. In a more perfect world the bed would have been made all tidy and neat, but it wasn't a perfect world, and she didn't seem to care anyhow. Her sighs and gasps were like music as he pressed himself deeper into her, leaning down into the crook of her neck and nipping at the tendon there.

“Hancock...please...”

“Oh no, Sunshine. I'm gonna take my time.”

He drew back just as slowly, feeling her clench on him as he pulled out of her, only to sink back into her. He had her positioned in such a way that each stroke ended with his pelvic bone pressed against her clit, teasing as he ground into her. She jerked each time, trying to make him go faster, go deeper, but he didn't give in. He could feel the tension in her body still, and decided she wasn't near enough to coming for his liking.

He pulled all the way out of her body, ignoring her complaining noise and pushed her around on the bed until he could kneel between her legs on the mattress. With a single finger he stroked from her opening to her clit, pressing against her until she squirmed. He grinned. “I do love the way you move,” he said.

She made a sound, almost strangled in the back of her throat and he grinned wider. He bent over her, pressing kisses along the slope of a breast, across her ribs and down her stomach until he reached the thatch of curls between her legs.

“H-han...”

“Hush now.”

He dropped down and licked a path up her core, flicking her clit once before tracing around it with the tip of his tongue. He slipped a finger inside her, curling it upwards and she shouted, bucking her hips off the bed. He didn't stop until she went completely rigid and cried out, the spasms of her orgasm so strong he could feel her pulsing against his burrowing finger. Before she came down from the orgasmic high, he filled her up again, pushing his hands under her hips to bury his cock as deep as he could. Her legs wrapped around him, strong thighs nearly squeezing the air from his lungs, but he still didn't pound at her the way he knew she wanted him to. He wanted it to last, to mark her memory indelibly with his body.

But even he couldn't keep it going forever. With a final surge into her willing heat, he emptied himself into her with a groan, collapsing on her chest with completion. When he pulled out and lay next to her, she turned and snuggled into him, her body sweaty and pliant. Her hair was now a half dry tangle around her head and he ran his fingers through it, smoothing out the snarls and knots. Her eyes drifted closed and her fingers curled against his chest. Her breath evened out and he smiled gently, happy that he was the cause of such contented fatigue and that she was comfortable enough to let down her guard.

He reached for the blankets to cover them up with and she woke, her eyes following his movements. “Are you staying?” he asked, momentarily unsure.

“If you want me to.”

“Oh, I want you to.”

“All right, Hancock. I'll stay.” Her eyes were still on him as he pulled up the covers and nestled in against her. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Sunshine.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You sleep. I ain't goin' nowhere.”


End file.
